Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“No.” She laughs that off with a brisk shake of her head. “He’s looking for help.”
“Help?” I laugh. “Is that code for sex?”
Her shoulders slump forward. “You’re so jealous.”
“I am,” I admit it because why try to lie about something that obvious? “What does he want help with, Gina?”
“Gaines has a patient who is deaf,” she tells me. “A few patients actually who need an ASL interpreter. His employee who is proficient in that left unexpectedly last week on an early maternity leave, so he asked if I knew a certified interpreter who was looking for some extra contract work.”
“Do you?”
She jerks a thumb toward herself. “Me.”
My brow furrows because I’m surprised, not only about why he wanted to speak to her but that she’s interested in an opportunity like that. “You?”
She nods softly. “I think I might want to do it, Daniel.”
Before I can respond, she’s reaching across the table for my hand.
I can tell she’s apprehensive about the conversation, so if she needs me to offer her comfort, I’ll do it.
“Are you a certified ASL interpreter?” I ask, wondering what that entails or what’s required of someone who wants to earn that designation.
She nods as she takes a bite of food.
I wait until she’s swallowed before I ask another question. “When did you get certified?”
“Months ago.” She smiles softly. “I was volunteering at a community center in midtown. I’m pretty sure both times you saw me dressed down, I was headed there.”
“Seriously?”
She laughs. “They have some members who are deaf, and although they have a kick-ass interpreter there, I asked if I could lend a hand. My dad goes there to play cards once a month.”
That makes perfect sense. Of course, she’d offer to pitch in to help.
“One of the board members mentioned the idea of certification. I had the required hours of interpreting experience there at the center, so she signed off on that,” she goes on, “I went ahead and took the exam and passed with flying colors.”
“I’m not surprised,” I say.
She glances at my phone again as it vibrates. “There are so many things I want to do with my life, Daniel.”
“Like what?”
This conversation has nothing to do with our Las Vegas wedding, but I want the first thing on her life to-do list to be staying married to me.
“I want to work with Dr. Morgan and any other doctors who need a temporary interpreter. I want to explore the idea of being a patient advocate. I feel my degree sets me up for that. Still, I’ve started looking into the possibility of taking a few courses to learn about medical terminology and insurance procedures. Many people need someone by their side when dealing with a health challenge. Dr. Morgan mentioned it in passing, and I think it might be a good fit for me.”
“Gina.” I squeeze her hand. “I’m in awe of you.”
“I'll do all that part-time because I want to help my grandma more. I want to make her life easier by taking on more tasks at the restaurant.”
I can’t contain my smile. “You’re fucking amazing."
“I’ll still do the social media thing.” Her chin tilts us. “I’ll only work with the brands I truly love and believe in. But I also want to showcase more important things than the next big fall coffee flavor.”
“Things that make a difference in more people’s lives?”
“Right.” She nods. “More content about helping others. Maybe a few videos featuring my dad because he won’t admit it, but I could tell he loved going viral.”
I laugh. “Louis is a star waiting to be discovered.”
“I can do this.” She takes a breath. “I can do it all, can’t I?”
“Damn right you can,” I tell her with pride etched in every word. “You’ll conquer it all and more.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Gina
“Gina?” Daniel’s voice is rough. It’s edged with sleep and unfettered desire.
I smile softly because we spent most of the night wrapped around each other. Long limbs entwined, mouths seeking one another, gasps, moans, and primal grunts filling the silence of our bedroom.
It’s been that way all week.
Each day spent apart before we meet up here, in our home after Daniel’s work is done, and I’ve planned my next steps while still fulfilling the commitments I’ve made.
His gaze wanders the guestroom, stopping to take in the vase of fresh, white carnations that I brought in here with me an hour ago.
The bouquet he gifted me with the night he first cooked for me, started to wither and brown so last night, Daniel arrived home with a fresh batch in hand and another piece of cake.
I thanked him for the flowers before reminding him I’ll have my fill of cake soon enough.
Tomorrow is my birthday.
It’s the day I tell my husband that I love him.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his eyes searching for an answer as to why I’m sitting on the floor wearing only a red bra and matching panties.